And calls to his standard the young and the old.
E’en the Guards, such home pastime as Polo stern spurning,
In sunshine Egyptian can broil yet be bold.
I’ve played fast and loose, but the Giaour’s successes
My dark schemes have dished in the dismallest way;
I must leave thee to fate, though my bosom still blesses
The nice little game I must trust thee to play.
Nor shall Islam, who hails thee as hero, forget thee—
Those tyrants of Infidel dogs are too smart,
But if thou shouldst lick them, by Allah, she’d set thee